


Absolution

by apollothebidemiguy



Series: A Blend of White and Rainbow [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alistair is genderfluid and Reader calls them either he or she depending on what they are wearing, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Frisk, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mute Frisk, No Smut, Post-Pacifist Route, Reader-Insert, Romance, Slice of Life, male reader - Freeform, sorry if that's confusing, the cutest children
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 14:34:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6198823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollothebidemiguy/pseuds/apollothebidemiguy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>n. A declaration of forgiveness of sins; formal release from guilt or punishment</em>
</p><p>Asgore was a sweet man, but some people didn’t see that. He tried his best, but his words always seemed to fall short, and his actions misinterpreted. In the Underground, he had only done what he thought best for his kingdom. He lost his children. He lost his wife. He lost his faith in himself. There was a hole in his heart that desperately needed to be filled.</p><p>Perhaps you could fix that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolution

“Quinn! Alistair! Time to get up!”

The resounding groans affirm that you were heard, and you race back into the kitchen to finish breakfast. Oh, gotta prepare Ali’s lunch, too, almost forgot. After flipping the pancakes and stirring the eggs to make sure they don’t stick to the bottom of the pan, you fumble through the fridge to see what’s available. Alright, got some sliced ham and a few pieces of cheddar left, that should suffice for a couple of days. You’ll have to go to the store this weekend. You grab the meat, cheese, and half-empty jar of mayonnaise and transfer them to the counter. A sizzling sound reminds you of your cooking and you jump, flitting to check on that instead. 

Breakfast is finished cooking by the time the kids sulk into the kitchen. You make a mental note that Alistair is dressed feminine today. Quinn’s dressed too; Ali must have helped him. Good. 

“Pancakes?” Quinn asks excitedly, perking up from the smell. He runs over to crowd your legs, sticking his arms up in demand. You chuckle and ruffle his mop of hair before handing him a plate. 

“Sure thing, dude.” Quinn beams at you. 

Ali is sitting patiently at the table for you to bring her food. You smile at her good manners. Once both your kiddos are settled you resume preparing Ali’s lunch. Where was the bread? Oh darn it, you were almost out. That shopping trip was going to have to come early. 

“Ali honey, you mind staying with Sarah a little later today?” you ask, sighing. “I gotta run to the grocery store.”

“Nope! Sarah said she had something fun for me today,” she replies after finishing her mouthful. God, that kid is so polite. “Don’t worry about it Dad. I don’t mind.”

You frown at her assurance. A seven-year-old shouldn’t be so perceptive to your situation, but here you are. You’re not sure if it’s a good thing. “Thanks, sweetie.”

You finish her lunch and pack it in a paper bag, along with a few granola bars you scavenged from the cupboard and a pouch of goldfish. Hopefully those snacks will last her for a couple more hours after school. Maybe Sarah will make Ali dinner. That’d be great.

You place the lunch bag near the door with the rest of their school things. Quinn gets fed at preschool, so you don’t have to worry about that. You glance at the time and curse; it’s already seven thirty. 

“You’ll be fine getting to the bus stop by yourself?” you ask Ali while fumbling to get your things together. You can’t be late today, you know Hannah took some time off so there’s no one to cover you if it gets in a rush. Plus, your patients can’t hold off being sick. 

Ali nods as she gets up from the table. She grabs Quinn’s empty plate in addition to her own and brings them to the sink to wash. Quinn practically bounces up to you hugs your legs again. “I’ll help you get ready, daddy!” He announces proudly. 

“Alright, little man,” you laugh. “C’mon.”

Quinn follows you back to your bedroom and races to get your things for you. He grabs your scrubs from their drawer, along with two socks from the drawer above it, and your tennis shoes next to the dresser. He places them all on your bed and hands you your clothes one at a time as you put them on. The socks are mismatched but you put them on anyway. Quinn always insists he do this when he is able in the morning, which you find ironic considering his reluctance to dress himself. Perhaps his is only trying to imitate his older sibling. Well, you were glad he had a good role model, at least. 

After you’re dressed, you head back out into the living room, with Quinn following. Looks like Ali has already left for school. You turn back to scoop Quinn up in your arms and he giggles, snuggling his head against your chest. Adorable did not even begin to cover this child. 

You grab your work bag from near the couch and head out the door with Quinn in your arms. It’s a little tricky to lock it when you’re trying to juggle a kid and a handbag but at this point you’ve practically mastered the art. Who needs a second pair of arms with talent like this? 

You see Sarah on your way to the elevator and you shout something about needing her to watch Ali for later than you usually ask and you’ll pay her Friday if she needs it. She smiles and nods at the former but waves off the latter, which you’re immensely grateful for because you’re not even sure if you have the money. Maybe you’ll try and bake her a cake later, girl does so much for you and your family and heaven be damned if she didn't deserve it. 

The rest of the walk to your van is quiet and miraculously Quinn doesn’t fuss when you pry him from your grip and strap him in his booster seat. The preschool isn’t much of a drive from your apartment complex and it’s only around seven minutes later when you’ve dropped him off and now you’re heading to work. You glance at the analog clock on your dash and sigh. It’s eight twenty.

You’re already late. 

\---

 

Luckily, the pediatrician wing was not busy this morning and when you apologized feverently to your boss she just gives you a patient smile and tells you it’s fine. You’re lucky to have so many people in your life that understand how hard it is to be a single parent sometimes. You can’t imagine what life would be like if you didn’t.

There were a few new incoming patients but none in your assigned section, so you mostly attend to the two children that had been in the hospital for a couple of days. Neither of them were in critical condition, and the boy was quickly recovering and seemed like he would be getting released around the weekend. They were both sweet kids and didn’t fuss when you had to stick them with needles or take their blood pressure. 

It was pretty slow until around noon.

You were called down to the ER because there was an incoming that needed to be transferred, and when you got down there it was...definitely a sight. You weren’t expecting a towering, goat-like monster with intimidating looking horns to be the mother, not that you have anything against monsters of course, and you especially weren’t warned about her emotional state. 

She was very distressed, borderline panicking. You could tell she was crying, as the fur around her eyes was matted and slightly discolored. When you enter the room she perks up somewhat, probably hoping for more information. 

“Are you another doctor?” She asks, her voice unsteady. 

You bristle slightly, but deflate with a sigh. You get that question so often that you can’t even be mad anymore. “No ma’am, I’m the pediatric nurse that will be overseeing the patient’s admission to our wing,” you explain. You examine the child, and they’ve been hooked up to a breathing tube and an IV. They look like they’re asleep, but you know they are most likely just very weak and tired. “Can you tell me what happened?”

She wipes at her eyes and nods. “Well, Frisk gets sick occasionally, and usually I administer generalities and do not worry much. But this time they did not get better, they got progressively worse. They had a high fever and were coughing constantly, and they did not want to want to leave their bed. I brought them here because they started coughing up blood.” 

The woman looks at her child then looks back at you sorrowfully. “Are...they...” Her sentence trailed off, like she did not want to complete her thought.

You shake your head. “Sounds like pneumonia. It can be very serious for children, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.” She seems to relax at the reassurance, but you can tell she is still very anxious. You tentatively put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright, ma’am, it's only natural for you to not be an expert on human sickness. Don’t blame yourself for not acting sooner.”

She smiles sadly at you. “Am I really that easy to read?”

“As a fellow parent, I get the feeling of fault.”

The woman goes silent, and you start preparing the patient to be moved. After a minute of you quietly working she speaks again. “You know, you are the only human here who has assumed I am their mother.”

“Well ma’am, if any of the staff here continually make you uncomfortable, please tell me. It’s my responsibility to make sure you feel welcome and well treated.”

“Thank you,” she replies simply. “Will you be our nurse once my child is moved to pediatrics?”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good.” For once, her smile is genuine. 

\---

 

After getting Frisk situated in your section, the woman, who you have learned is named Toriel, has a barrage of questions. You answer them happily, telling her about the various symptoms and home treatments for pneumonia. A lot of specific questions end up with you explaining human biology to her which you don’t really mind. Your job is to help her child recover and if that includes educating their mother on how to better help them in the future, then so be it. Toriel seems fascinated when you explain how many symptoms are actually the result of the immune system at work. Monsters apparently do not have as much “physical matter” as humans, she tells you, and the reasons for how most functions work is magic. That might be why you’ve never had a patient who is a monster before. You’ve always wondered about that.

You had to leave to attend to other business and patients for a while, and when you came back there was another monster visiting. You opened your mouth to greet the new presence but quickly shut it when you saw the expression on Toriel’s face. She did not seem happy at all.

“Why are you here, Asgore?” She practically seethes, folding her arms across her chest. Asgore, who was of very similar appearance to her except for his massive size and golden hair, looked sheepish. 

“I heard that Frisk was ill, and I wanted to check on them,” he replies calmly. His voice is very deep, booming but smooth.

“They aren’t your responsibility.” 

“Now, now, Tori...”

“Don’t talk to me as if I’m a child!” she snapped, before turning her back on him and bowing her head in frustration. “It’s just that this brings back bad memories, Asgore.”

“I understand, dear, but please, I am only trying to be supportive. I care about Frisk too.”

Toriel cringes at the word ‘dear’ but otherwise does not reply. When she finally shifts to look at him it is accompanied by a long sigh. “I know you do, but please, in this situation...I need to be alone.”

Asgore nods solemnly with sad eyes before turning in your direction to exit the room. You sidestep to give him space - he’s very wide - and he gives you a friendly smile. “Oh, hello! Are you the nurse? Would you mind answering some questions outside?”

You hesitate, and look at Toriel for approval, since she is the primary caregiver. She indicates that it’s okay, so you turn back to Asgore and nod your head. “I’ll be right with you sir, I just need to check on Frisk first.” 

He seems happy with that answer.

\---

 

Asgore did not have as many questions as Toriel, to which you assume is because he doesn’t live with Frisk. That wouldn’t surprise you, considering how strongly Toriel reacted to him, but with how similar they look you also want to assume they are related in some way. You don’t want to ask though, as you feel that would be rude. 

He seems to sense your curiosity, however, and answers the unspoken question without a spoken prompt. “My wife and I had children together a long time ago. It does not surprise me that she would react that way to Frisk’s situation.” 

You’re unsure if these conversations you’ve been having with the two goat monsters are becoming unprofessional, but you aren’t shrinking on your duties so you decide you don’t care. The other patients you are responsible for don’t require much medical attention, and your aide can handle everything else. 

“You’re still married?” you ask. That would be impressive, you think, considering their relationship.

“Ah, no.” Asgore looks embarrassed. “I get caught up in the past and often forget to add the prefix.”

“But you still love her.” It’s not a question.

He hangs his head, in what you assume is misery. “I do.”

The two of you continue talking for a while about an assortment of things. You’re impressed with how easily he seems to open up to you; you never thought yourself to have that kind of impressionable aura. Not that you're complaining. It’s nice to have someone to talk to other than your kids. 

You tell him about Quinn and Alistair, too, and his face lights up the entire time you talk about them. You brag about how smart and polite Ali is, and the adorable and people-pleasing Quinn. Asgore becomes surprisingly animated in the conversation, asking many questions about your children. With every response his smile reaches his eyes a little more.

He must really miss being a dad.

“How is their mother?” he asks you innocently, but the query makes you freeze. Asgore frowns at your response and backpedals. “Apologies, I did not mean to assume anything.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him honestly. “Just a sensitive subject. Their mother...passed away. She died from cancer a few years ago. Quinn is too young to remember much of her, but Ali took it really hard.” 

“...Ah.” Asgore pats your shoulder reassuringly. “I’m very sorry for your loss.” His expression is so genuine, it causes you to blush and look away. 

“Thank you. It’s a little difficult, being by myself now, but I’ve managed so far.”

“Would you ever need help with the kids, perhaps?”

You pause. You had only met Asgore today, and even though you’ve been having a lovely conversation, you weren’t sure if you were  _ that _ comfortable with your relationship quite yet. Stranger danger, as they say. He seems like he has good intentions, but, of course, you can’t be completely confident in that. These are your kids you're talking about, after all. 

“That’s very nice of you to offer, but I think I have it covered,” you reply carefully, but politely. “A few of my neighbors are kind enough watch them when I’m at work.” God bless Sarah and her husband. 

Asgore nods, seemingly nonplussed, but with a twinge of disappointment in his eyes. “I see.”

The two of you continue talking for a couple more minutes, before Asgore glances at the clock on the wall ( apparently you’ve been talking for about an hour now, in total) and then rises from his seat. 

“I suppose I shouldn’t keep you any longer.” Asgore looks at you with an expression you can’t quite describe. “May I...know when your shift ends, perhaps?”

“Oh, um...I get off at five, but I was going to go grocery shopping after work.”

“There is always tomorrow,” he beams at you. “May I have your number, then?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of feelings about Goat Dad, okay?
> 
> Also, this isn't going to be very long. Like, three chapters maybe. I'm going to skip around a lot. It's probably going to end with marriage.
> 
> If you're reading this, I love you. I hope the rest of your day is fantastic.


End file.
